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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23127910">The Art of Kissing Properly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drinking Games, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Time Skip, Shirabu's A's in Biology and Chemistry meet his F in Feelings, hahah which one counts as the first kiss?, the consent is enthusiastic but they're both drunk, volleyball idiots</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:54:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,654</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23127910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It sure as hell isn't a science.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>314</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Art of Kissing Properly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Tbh i just wanted them to kiss. That's why it's just a fic about kissing. And idiocy. Unbeta-ed, so all mistakes are mine. Anyway stan SemiShira. I hope you like fanfic tropes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Time moves differently in the face of disaster. Right before one, everything slows down. You can watch mouths stretch comically through the windshield of an incoming car. You can isolate the movement of each wave on the surface of the sea as your plane hurtles towards it. Afterwards people tend not to notice. Usually they’re busy fighting for their lives.</p><p>Semi Eita is a lucky man, because he is given the chance. His life is not in danger. There is no noise to distract him from noticing the passage of time. Shirabu is staring at him, pink-cheeked, still far too close for Eita to come out of this with his dignity intact. Warmth lingers on Eita’s lips like a curse.</p><p>It goes on.</p><p>And on.</p><p>Time <em> does </em> slow down.</p><p>Until Shirabu explodes in motion and scampers out of their loose circle, disappearing up the stairs leading to the second floor of Eita’s house.</p><p>Eita glances at Kawanishi. Eita processes the rough snoring sounds coming from the location of his head under a couch cushion, and despairs at losing the chance to just send him upstairs to talk to Shirabu. He turns to Tendou, who smirks unhelpfully, then to Reon.</p><p>“You should talk to him,” Reon says.</p><p>“That would be for the best,” Wakatoshi adds, with no inflection whatsoever. Yamagata just shrugs. Eita really hates his friends.</p><p>“This is your fault,” he hisses at Tendou with all the animosity he can scrounge up. Tendou just laughs like the insane bastard he is. The sound carries all the way up the stairs as Eita ascends them.</p><p>He finds Shirabu at the second floor lounge, leaning on the wall with his head back and his eyes closed like he’s recovering from a migraine. His hair falls in a perfect chestnut curtain. Eita’s booze-addled mind is transfixed by his lovely neck. </p><p>“Yo,” he says.</p><p>Shirabu doesn’t even startle. He opens his eyes, slowly, then looks at Eita, looking sharp and unbothered as ever except for the faint flush staining his cheeks.</p><p>“Semi.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry for that. We could’ve just told Tendou to fuck off and downed the booze. I mean, friends who get hangovers together stay together, right?”</p><p>Shirabu doesn’t respond. Eita sits down on one of the chairs and very carefully does not look at him. He thinks of how easy it would be if it were literally anyone else. With Shirabu, he can’t separate his own wishful thinking from his perception of the situation.</p><p>There’s a sound. Shirabu’s mumbling something.</p><p>“You’ll have to speak up. I can’t hear you.”</p><p>Shirabu starts walking toward him, looking thoughtful, and doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of Eita, looking down at him. Eita is starting to think he made a grave error when he chose to sit on this chair.</p><p>“I said you don’t have to tell him to fuck off. I just panicked.” Eita sighs with relief. So he’s over it already. But he should know better. There are very few things in life Shirabu would allow to eat at him for too long other than volleyball and school. Eita’s hostility, at first. And then he started taking that in stride, too. “I didn’t do it right because I was so shocked. Can I have the chance to try it properly now?”</p><p>His expression remains subdued, but Eita knows Shirabu better than that, and Shirabu knows <em> him </em> better than that. He only breaks out the politeness for maximum effect. Eita swallows.</p><p>Holding Shirabu’s gaze is a Herculean effort.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” he says. “We had a lot to drink down there.”</p><p>“Not enough that I don’t know who I’m talking to. If you don’t want to, it’s fine. I just think it could’ve gone better,” Shirabu says softly. His cheeks are much redder now, despite having delivered the most Shiratorizawa way of propositioning someone ever. Eita hates his high school.</p><p>Eita hates himself. He stands up, and Shirabu <em> doesn’t </em> step back, so there’s practically no space between them.</p><p>“Yeah, sure. Let me show you how it’s done, huh?”</p><p>“Of course,” he replies in a tone so polite that Eita knows he’s being mocked.</p><p>Shirabu tilts his head a little and closes his eyes, and Eita does the same, his hand coming up to Shirabu’s waist. This time, Shirabu is deliberate when he moves, unlike downstairs where he’d practically crashed into Eita’s face. Then he licks tentatively at Eita’s bottom lip and Eita loses whatever semblance of self-control he has left.</p><p>In less than a second they’re kissing with open mouths; Eita’s tongue finds Shirabu’s, then Shirabu’s hands find Eita’s hips and pushes him back on the chair. Once Shirabu’s on his lap with his waist in Eita’s hands, Eita watches, captivated, as he leans in again to taste whatever’s in Eita’s mouth. Eita nips at him a little, just as a test, and is rewarded with a small gasp. Shirabu’s hand twists in the front of his shirt like he’s still trying to pull him closer, even though they’re basically chest to chest. Eita flutters his fingertips under Shirabu’s hem to trace his spine. Shirabu shivers at his touch.</p><p>He could do this forever. He knew that, in an abstract, far-fetched way. Now his senses tell him with urgent alarm that this is real. He could do this forever, if his lungs didn’t need air.</p><p>“How’s that for proper?” he asks, leaning back. </p><p>“Is that how you kiss your groupies?” Shirabu teases without smiling, fingers gently cupping Eita’s jaw. Eita laughs. Shirabu gets a little more overt with his snideness when alcohol is involved.</p><p>“I don’t <em> have </em> groupies,” he says. </p><p>“That makes sense,” Shirabu murmurs, quickly stifling Eita’s indignant reply.</p><p>Shirabu’s an incredibly fast learner. It’s evident on the court and in the classroom. Eita’s now confronted with the reality that it is also the same in kissing. Shirabu’s teeth graze his lip and it’s not the first time Eita’s felt that but it’s the first time he’s felt it with <em> Shirabu.</em> It’s the feeling of coming in as a pinch server and making his seconds count. A spike landing out just of reach of the libero on the opposite side of the court. Shirabu’s soft flick of his hair when they’ve just won a match. A hand pulls at his hair and Eita groans, long and loud.</p><p>“Hey, is everything okay he—<em>oh </em>.”</p><p>Reon’s on the top step of the staircase, halting just before his other foot gets on the second floor. Eita half-expects Shirabu to jump right off his lap, but he only twists his head a little to get a look at the intruder. (<em>Intruder! </em> Eita really is losing his fucking mind.)</p><p>“Everything’s fine, Oohira-san. Semi was just teaching me some things.”</p><p>Reon’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Eita gives him a thumbs-up.</p><p>“Okay, feel free to go on <em> teaching him things</em>, Eita. We’ll be downstairs.” He starts to descend the stairs. “Don’t go through the entire syllabus too fast!”</p><p>Eita is going to kill him. If he doesn’t die from having Shirabu in his lap.</p><p>“Everyone from our school is so fucking nerdy,” Eita groans.</p><p>“Me included.” Shirabu’s smiling. He’s smiling the way he does when he thinks no one’s looking, when they’re hanging out in the park or in the gym when they used to practice alone after Shirabu was made captain. Eita has wanted to trace that smile with his finger for a while now. So he does.</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s fine. You’re fine.”</p><p>Shirabu chooses to hum against his mouth in answer. Eita closes his eyes, lets himself float away in the haze within his head and the feeling of Shirabu kissing him again. It only took three tries for Shirabu to get used to setting for Wakatoshi. Now it’s the third try and Shirabu’s hands are all over him, pushing at his shirt, learning the contours of Eita’s chest. Eita gasps when the other boy breaks the kiss to start sucking on his neck.</p><p>“Shirabu,” he says hoarsely. “Shirabu, stop.”</p><p>He does, frowning a little.</p><p>“Was that not good?”</p><p>“It was,” Eita sighs. He closes his eyes again, pushing his head back. “Look, I don’t think we should go any further than kissing.”</p><p>If Shirabu regrets this when he wakes up, Eita’s not giving him more reasons to beat himself up. Right.</p><p>“I see. I guess it <em> is </em> time to go to bed,” Shirabu says, yawning. “I have to get back to campus tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yeah. I was gonna start rolling out the mattresses anyway.”</p><p>“I’ll help you out.”</p><p>When they get downstairs, the mattresses are already rolled out; Tendou and Wakatoshi are tangled up in each other; Reon is sleeping on his side; Yamagata is curled up under a blanket from god-knows-where; Kawanishi is still passed out on the sofa.</p><p>“Huh,” Eita says. There is only one mattress left, in what must be some stupid oversight. Or Tendou hid the other two somewhere. The alcohol is telling Eita to drop the issue and just sleep already.</p><p>Shirabu gets there before he does.</p><p>“Well? Are you planning on sleeping on the floor?”</p><p>Despite Eita’s best attempts to control himself, Shirabu ends up in his arms anyway, head tucked close to Eita. He falls asleep to the faintly sweet scent of Shirabu’s shampoo, brushing another kiss against his forehead when he’s sure Shirabu’s asleep. He’ll think of a proper way to ask him out tomorrow morning—dinner somewhere, and Eita will bring flowers. </p><hr/><p>When he wakes up, Shirabu and Kawanishi are gone. Reon explains that he’d woken up before them and let them out, and Eita shrugs. He sends Shirabu a text, asking him if he’d like to get dinner tomorrow.</p><p>He checks his phone again that afternoon and Shirabu hasn’t answered.</p><p>It’s not like it’s an uncommon occurrence. Med school does that to a person. During exam season, Shirabu doesn’t even go out on weekends. Eita shrugs it off, goes to work. Comes to the studio to practice. Tries not to think too hard about Shirabu’s mouth. Tries not to imagine his the path of his hands on Eita’s skin.</p><p>A week goes by without a single reply. Eita considers coming up to Shirabu’s university, then decides that’s too much. He texts Kawanishi instead, asks him if Shirabu’s been busy lately. Out of context, it would seem incredibly ridiculous just how thoroughly the words <em> he just finished his midterms so he’s been calling a lot, why? </em> could destroy a person, but here he is. Eita has to put his phone down. His bandmates call him out on shaking and he tells them he‘s had four espresso shots.</p><p>[Delivered 04.53 pm to: Shirabu 💉] <em> I’m sorry. </em></p><p>[Received 11.31 pm from: Shirabu 💉] <em> There’s nothing to be sorry about, Semi-san</em>.</p><p>He hasn’t been <em> Semi-san </em> since the fall they lost to Karasuno.</p><p>[Delivered 11.33 pm to: Shirabu 💉] <em> Can we meet? </em></p><p>Radio silence. It does quite a number on your confidence, the thought that someone regrets kissing you so much that he decides to break off your friendship unilaterally. He cycles through the possibilities: Shirabu is unhappy that he kissed Eita, in particular; Shirabu noticed that it was more to Eita than a matter of pride, lust, and competence, and decided not to be involved; Shirabu thought that a decision made without one hundred percent rationality wouldn’t do, because he has never been satisfied by eighty or ninety percent in his life.</p><p>Maybe Eita had been such a bad kisser that Shirabu can’t bear to see his face again.</p><p>Time slows down after a disaster; nights get longer and shorter in the worst way. His body knows now what it felt like to hold Shirabu, knows the shadow of his eyelashes against his cheeks when he falls asleep, the slightest hint of a smile on his face when he moves in for another kiss. It uses this data to ruthless effect. Waking up is a fresh round of heartbreak every time.</p><p>Even worse is when he catches himself thinking of something to tell Shirabu about, then catches himself again. They’re not texting anymore. He has to stop himself from telling Shirabu about his coworkers’ drunk mishaps or his new song ideas. He scrolls up to reread Shirabu’s spontaneous lectures on human biology and anatomy, then recycles his laughter at Shirabu’s old med student jokes.</p><p>It’s not his idea to deal with it in the way he ends up dealing with it, five days from the last time Shirabu replies to his text. (Eita knows. He’s counting.)</p><p>“You seem miserable,” goes Hayate, his drummer friend. “Wanna record a cover?”</p><p>Eita shrugs. “You pick the song.”</p><p>“We should do a classic. We should do Blink.”</p><p>“Sure,” Eita says.</p><p>Eita doesn’t need practice. Back in middle school he’d played this song a thousand times. In high school, he sang it out loud every time some up-and-coming band plays it as a crowd pleaser. </p><p>“It’s okay to be a little miserable,” Hayate tells him just before they start recording. “You don’t have to think about technique, so get in your feelings.”</p><p>Eita gets in his feelings. </p><p>In less than a week it becomes one of their most popular videos. A testament to the fucking algorithm and an entire generation’s worth of nostalgia or what fucking ever. Eita tries not to feel a little resentful about it. All exposure’s good exposure, when you’re just starting out.</p><p>Here he’s singing: <em> Don’t waste your time on me, you’re already the voice inside my head. </em></p><p>Here he wishes Shirabu would waste a little more time on him.</p><hr/><p>[Received 10.12 am from: Kawanishi] <em> does this have anything to do with kenjirou? http://youtu.be/GhWki45hj </em></p><p>[Delivered 10.47 am to: Kawanishi] <em> Piss off, Kawanishi.  </em></p><p>[Delivered 10.52 am to: Kawanishi] <em> Are you going to tell him? </em></p><p>This is entirely the wrong thing to say, because there has never been a thing Kawanishi Taichi heard from anyone about Shirabu Kenjirou that didn’t end up reaching the latter. Five seconds after he sends the text, Eita realizes this, and figures that it’s not like the nail isn’t in the coffin already.</p><p>It’s one way to end a six-year crush. It’s one way to end Shirabu’s record of wrangling the twisting vines of envy into much lovelier things, entirely without meaning to. To Shirabu, asking Eita for one-on-one practices had been a simple solution to a less-than-simple problem (losing to Karasuno). Point one: if Shirabu was going to be one of the senior members of the team—if he was going to be a captain worth his salt, he needed to close the skill gap between them. Point two: Eita would be able to spot the flaws in his technique. Point three: Shirabu always, always wanted to beat him.</p><p>The texting habit had formed from arranging practices. Eating together had been done out of expedience, at first, because they were leaving together anyway. Hanging out on the weekends just meant maximizing time to practice. </p><p>There’s probably a name for that, the reason why people continue to do things even when the practical causes do not exist anymore. Eita doesn’t know it. It’s the name of the tunnel vision he got when Shirabu came to both his graduation days; it’s the name of the million habits Shirabu developed to hone his brilliance in every aspect of his life; it’s the name that lit up Eita’s phone at night with the power to redefine his day.</p><p>Funny how that goes. When Shirabu first got into Shiratorizawa, Eita wished he would just go away. Look where they are now.</p><p>When you’re a musician you don’t have to let your heartbreaks do nothing but stew in your chest. Eita gets home and starts plucking, thinking of lyrics. No one has to know whom it’s about. The first verse comes easily enough; he’s going through it with his eyes closed, getting used to the rhythm of the words on his tongue, when his phone buzzes.</p><p>[Received 08.21 pm from: Shirabu 💉] <em> Where do you want to meet? </em></p><p>[Delivered 08.21 pm to: Shirabu 💉] <em> Wherever you want. </em></p><p>The park Shirabu chooses is one they’ve been to a few times before. Its proximity to Shirabu’s campus means that whenever he has to get back to study or attend a practicum quickly, he doesn’t have to leave in a rush. There are ducks you can feed in the pond. There’s a small, secluded spot Shirabu likes, behind the pavilion at the back, where the branches of the trees seem to curve so arches of leaves frame the clearing, and their shadows mottle your skin. It is one of the nicest places to see Shirabu laugh. </p><p>The man in question is already there when Eita gets there, leaning against the back wall of the pavilion. Still in his lab coat, with a dark shirt underneath. It is the most ordinary outfit in the world. He is painfully beautiful in it.</p><p>“You’re going to tell me why you ignored me for two weeks,” Eita says, frowning. “But first, I should apologize for that night. I should’ve known you’d regret it and I should’ve said no the first time. We were both drunk. If you can forgive me for that, we can just forget it never happened, okay? I’ll never bring it up again.”</p><p>Shirabu looks down. Eita feels his heart hammer in his throat.</p><p>“I wanted to apologize for that too,” Shirabu says. Eita’s heart stops hammering. It drops somewhere far below.</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Sorry you had to humor me like that. I didn’t know what you’d think. It was clear you were going to let it slide when you asked me to dinner, but I couldn’t get over how I basically just… coerced you into making out. I know you didn’t come up there to kiss me. I know the dare was supposed to be the end of it.” Shirabu still isn’t looking at him. “Forgive me, Semi-san.”</p><p>“Don’t call me that,” he says. “Why are you calling me that?”</p><p>“I thought you might want me to keep my distance.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>His voice is unwaveringly calm in the way Eita knows is too deliberate to be real. “I thought you might be uncomfortable with my feelings. I didn’t want to go to dinner with you just so you could let me down gently. And I couldn’t handle talking to you at all. It meant I might face your rejection. But here I am. It had to happen sooner or later, I suppose.”</p><p>“You thought I was asking you to dinner to let you down,” Eita repeats, just in case he heard him wrong.</p><p>“Yes?” Shirabu finally looks at him. “That’s what I said.”</p><p>“You thought I was humoring you, when I kissed you that night,” he further clarifies.</p><p>“Well, you were.” He sounds petulant now. Like the Shirabu Eita knows and loves—even though he’s completely wrong this time.</p><p>“Wow, you save all your brain cells for volleyball and med school,” Eita says, laughing. Finally, there’s air in his chest again. Shirabu’s glaring at him now, but Eita doesn’t care. If he’s right, he doesn’t care about anything else. “I’m still angry at you for ignoring me, but I feel like I’m going crazy when I hear you talk because I’ve wanted to kiss you since my graduation day.” As understanding dawns on Shirabu’s face, Eita feels the need to specify. “My <em> high school </em> graduation day.”</p><p>Shirabu crosses his arms.</p><p>“Semi, if you’re fucking around, I swear I’ll drown you in the pond.” </p><p>Eita walks to him so he can put one hand on the wall near Shirabu’s face, leaning down a little. He’s always wanted to do this. Shirabu’s eyes gleam like honey. There are glimmers of gold in his hair.</p><p>“I’ll prove it to you. We’re completely sober now, right?” Shirabu nods. “Let me kiss you again, <em> properly </em> properly.”</p><p>Shirabu nods, more slowly this time, and Eita doesn’t wait.</p><p>He guides Shirabu’s mouth to his with one hand, presses against his closed mouth for a moment before he starts licking at Shirabu’s lips in askance. Eita gives it everything he’s got. He meets Shirabu halfway in his movements, welcomes the heat of Shirabu’s tongue. Shirabu’s hand finds his waist and pulls him closer; the other tangles itself in Eita’s hair, tugging little groans out of him. He was right the first time. He could do this forever.</p><p>When Shirabu breaks it, leaning back and breathing hard, Eita’s lungs are burning. Eita is reluctant to separate, so he follows the movement of Shirabu’s head, keeping their foreheads together so they’re still nose-to-nose. He closes his eyes, lets his thumb trace the wet line of Shirabu’s bottom lip. Breathes in the air on his cheek.</p><p>“Still think I was just humoring you?” He means it to come out teasing. Instead it’s hoarse and breathless, as wrecked as he feels.</p><p>When he opens his eyes, Shirabu is looking at him with eyes so dark Eita feels dizzy just looking back. He shakes his head with barely any motion at all.</p><p>“Did you really upload that cover for me?”</p><p>“I was thinking of you when I sang it,” he admits sheepishly. “It’s not like I thought you would watch it.”</p><p>“I watch everything you post.” Shirabu rolls his eyes. “It drove me crazy for a few days. Couldn’t figure out if I was being delusional if I thought it might be about me. That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up, at first.”</p><p>“Good to know that big brain finally figured it out,” Eita says, flicking the side Shirabu’s forehead gently.</p><p>“Whatever, Eita. You weren’t exactly being a genius about it either.”</p><p>Eita freezes. He <em> feels </em>his face heat up. A small smile spreads over Shirabu’s face.</p><p>“Hm. If I can get you to short-circuit every time I call you by your first name I guess I shouldn’t do it very often.”</p><p>“No, Kenjirou, I want you to do it as much as possible,” Eita says. The little shit doesn’t even blush.</p><p>“Good. Because saying Semi-san made me feel like I was still in my second year of high school, back when you were glaring at me all the time.”</p><p>“I did <em> not </em> glare at you, you little—“</p><p>“You did. I have witnesses.”</p><p>“Kawanishi doesn’t count.”</p><p>Shirabu—<em>Kenjirou </em> huffs out a little laugh. Eita’s heart grows by three sizes.</p><p>“Anyway, tomorrow’s Saturday, right? If I buy you a toothbrush, do you want to stay over?” Kenjirou runs his fingers through Eita’s hair, making him shiver with a stroke over his scalp, and traces a teasing line just below the hem of Eita’s t-shirt, which is completely unfair. Eita should’ve known that once he got ahold of this power, he would never stop abusing it. “I’d like to know what could’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me.”</p><p>“Do you wish I hadn’t?” Eita asks.</p><p>“What is this, an ego-stroking session? It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”</p><p>This makes Eita laugh. He’s right, as usual. Eita leans in to kiss him once more, making no excuses. He does it just because he can.</p><hr/><p>The night after Wakatoshi loses to Hinata Shouyou again, Shirabu comes down to Sendai for the reunion sleepover at Eita’s house. Goshiki has a game in Tokyo, so he can’t make it. They promise to pick up his video call once he’s done showering and everything, and Eita wonders just how much fun it’ll be to watch his high school upperclassmen make drunken fools of themselves.</p><p>Wakatoshi lets himself drink after big games, which means every time he finishes a big game, the Shiratorizawa alumni have an excuse to get drunk. Tendou, who gets frighteningly excited about alcohol, brought a large selection of liquor over, each bottle more eye-searingly colorful than the last. Eita suspects it’s how he chooses which thing to buy.</p><p>It should be astonishing that nobody gets bored every time they start off by talking about volleyball at first over drinks. Once they’ve all caught up on league standings, exciting plays, and match analyses, they move on to the main event: Truth or Dare, an efficient Shiratorizawa volleyball team reunion tradition that gives all parties involved the chance to both get decently drunker and catch up on the their love lives, their horror stories from work—all the important things.</p><p>Their version allows a player to reject a dare for four shots and a truth for five. A player either gets very embarrassed (which isn’t quite the word for it, because at this point they don’t get embarrassed around each other anymore) or very drunk. It is always a good time. The drunker Shirabu gets, the saltier he is, which absolutely delights Eita.</p><p>By the seventh rotation, Kawanishi has passed out. Tendou is cackling without breaks. They all have to live with the knowledge that they collectively witnessed Ushijima Wakatoshi say, with a straight face, that he would give Sakusa Kiyoomi head in a truck stop restroom. Shirabu has started taking any and all truths and dares because he wants to study tomorrow and can’t afford a hangover.</p><p>Eita now knows which rival team member he finds the most attractive (Oikawa Tooru, to nobody’s surprise), his most embarrassing story in med school (accidentally putting a foot cover on instead of a head cover during a surgery simulation) and that he definitely <em> cannot </em> rap.</p><p>By the time they get to Shirabu’s turn again, Tendou slams his hand down on the floor and grins his most terrifying grin.</p><p>“So, I bet you don’t get a lot of action, being super busy and all,” he says. “I dare you to spin a bottle and kiss whoever the cap points to.”</p><p>Shirabu doesn’t say anything, just takes an empty soju bottle from behind him, then sets it down with exaggerated carefulness in the middle before giving it a spin. Eita watches its rotational motion intently. Spin. If he has to watch Shirabu kiss Wakatoshi, he will actually give himself alcohol poisoning. Spin. If he has to watch Shirabu kiss <em> Tendou</em>, he might go into voluntary cardiac arrest. The bottle starts slowing down, moving at the agonizing pace of a jump floater landing just out of reach, first pointing to Tendou, then turning again to point to Yamagata, then to Reon, and finally, as Eita is preparing to let go of the breath he’s been holding, it stops, and Eita’s staring at the green cap right in front of him.</p><p>Shirabu’s eyes are on him; his face is pale and there’s a tiny frown on his face. Scratch that. He’d rather watch him kiss Tendou than see him look like he’s just ate the world’s rankest batch of sushi at the thought of kissing Eita.</p><p>“Ohohoho, Semisemi! Pucker up!”</p><p>Eita looks at Shirabu and smiles in what he hopes is a comforting manner.</p><p>“Look, Shirabu, we can just drink, okay? I’ll take the four shots with you.”</p><p>“I really can’t drink any more,” Shirabu says.</p><p>This is not how he pictured this would go.</p><p>“Okay, then. Come here?”</p><p>Shirabu shifts closer. Eita watches his expression shift from one of fear to determination as he approaches. Leave it to him to approach kissing as another challenge. There is a curious hush around the room; not even Tendou is making any noise, and Eita finds himself staring at Shirabu’s wide brown eyes, his flushed cheeks, his pretty mouth. He wonders how you can think of the same thing for half a dozen years and still be so fascinated, like seeing the open sea for the millionth time. Like watching the same kind of flower bloom, spring after spring.</p><p>Eita takes a deep breath. This means nothing to everyone in this room except him, so there really is no cause for alarm. What’s the worst that could happen? He takes Shirabu’s elbow in his hand to steady him, then leans in.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again! Stan SemiShira.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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